


The Freedom Land

by thelastflightshome



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, i'll add more tags ig, mob!au, not ur typical story but i tried to keep everyone in character, queens in the 1970s is my Aesthetic, racism bc everyone Sucks except the parkers, threw my OCs in there too but they're not major characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastflightshome/pseuds/thelastflightshome
Summary: Mafia!AU.Peter is a young associate of the Stark Family, in Queens, New York. He's no made man, but he might as well be. Then he meets Michelle Jones./They think I don't understand The Freedom Land of the seventies





	The Freedom Land

**Author's Note:**

> Based off Goodfellas, A Bronx Tale, The Godfather, and probably all the other gangster movies I've ever seen. Set in the early 1970s in New York. Things are a bit different in New York now than they were then; I tried to make it as accurate as I could. Mentions of racism, 'cause people suck.

He’s not a full Italian, so he could never be a made man. Even though his aunt who raised him was a full italian, and he spoke the language rather well, he could never be ‘in’ the way the rest of them are. Mr. Stark was really pushing his luck by taking Peter in. By taking Peter into his family (the front for their ‘business’ was an electronics store), a non-Italian, a Jew, into his family, was just making Stark appear funny to the other Dons. 

“Don’t you know you've got your own families, kid?” Stark had peered at him over his sunglasses. 

“My aunt...She told me to come to you.” Peter had said, back when he was a kid, fidgeting in his seat a little more. Stark was an intimidating man. 

“Your aunt?” Stark raised his brow. “May. May Reilly.” Peter answered. Stark removed his sunglasses and a breath left his lips. 

“What’s bringing you here, kid?” 

And like that, Peter was brought into the underworld. 

Three piece suits, cigarettes, the slicked back hair -- He was practically a gangster, in everything but blood. He did favors for Tony, that was his job. Everything was always taken care of. Always. 

“I need you to do something for me, Peter.” Stark pushed his oily hair back. “Of course.” Peter could never deny him. 

“There’s a dinner tonight, I need you to attend. The Romano family is hosting.” Stark explained. “ -- Do I gotta wack Joseph?” Peter interrupted, joking. His smile quickly fell at Tony’s expression. “Sorry. Continue.” 

“You can’t say shit like that, Parker. Jesus Christ --- Imagine if we were bugged? You would’ve gotten the both of us killed.” Tony snapped, almost lifting his head to smack Peter on the back of the head. Sometimes the kid really deserved it. 

“Anyway. You have dinner at the Romano home. Just talk to Joseph, his son Anthony, and James Mancuso. Avoid his daughter, Taylor. She’s trouble.” Stark instructed. “Just talk a bit, let them know we’re still on good terms. Make note on, or if, there’s any tensions. Report there for an hour and a half, then straight back here.” 

Around six on the dot, Peter was heading inside the Romano house. A modest home in Floral Park, Queens. He thinks it looks normal, like the same type of middle-class home he would’ve lived in. If his aunt wanted to, they could move her out of her apartment and settle somewhere like this. 

You wouldn’t think a Don would live in a place like this. God knows Tony wouldn’t be caught dead. 

Peter’s greated with chatter, loud laughs, and old Italian folk music. It’s warm in there, like a family. What’s the occasion? Peter wondered what Stark had left out. 

In fifteen minutes, he’s sitting in the secluded dining room, a plate of meatballs and pork chop in sauce sitting in front of him, a glass of red wine on his left, and he’s sat between Joseph and James. Joseph Romano, the Don, a real Vito Corleone type. James Mancuso, his right hand man, much younger. The potential to be the next Michael Corleone if anything happened to Joseph. Anthony, Joseph’s son, was a real joke. 

“Tony sends his regards, he’s sorry he couldn't make it. He’s got a prior engagement.” Peter tells the Don, who nods in understanding. 

“How are things in Chicago? The mexicans giving you a hard time?” Peter asks, recalling the former issues that Stark told him. 

“We took out Mr. Valentino and his wife. Their sons are still alive, but we’re working on the older one. He’s trouble.” James cuts in, rubbing his scruffy beard. 

“He thinks a street gang took his parents out.” Anthony speaks up, shrugging. He was a punk -- Literally, one of those goth kids. He shouldn’t be at the Goddamn table. 

“Other than that, all is well. They’ll learn to respect us.” Joseph waved his hang before sipping his wine. A knock at the doorway had earned everyone’s attention. Peter watched a young woman enter the room. 

“Hi Daddy.” She kissed Joseph on the cheek. “Sorry I’m just coming in. I was out with Jamie.” She explained, moving away from her father. 

“It’s fine. Just don’t make it a habit.” Joseph said. James shifted in his seat as the woman leaned against his shoulder,s running a hand gently over his chest as she whispered in his ear. Peter blinked, glancing at Joseph. 

“Taylor. This is Peter, of the Stark family.” Joseph spoke -- Instantly his daughter stood up straight. “This is my youngest child, Taylor.” Joseph gestured to the woman. “Hey.” She gave Peter half a smile, her hazel eyes glancing him over. She was gorgeous, but she sure made Peter uncomfortable. “Nice to meet you.” He said, despite it. 

She went away after a few minutes. Joseph gave James a pointed look before the latter looked down. 

“I should get going.” Peter spoke up, waiting for Joseph to acknowledge him before he excused himself. Of course, Peter was leaving earlier than Stark wanted him to, but he did what he was supposed to do. There was no point in staying any longer. 

Peter was walking to his car down the block when he noticed something -- Someone -- A girl, no a woman. A woman, taking pictures of his goddamn license plate. 

“Hey! Hey, what’s your deal?” Peter called, watching her stand up. Shit, she was tall. This made Peter a little annoyed -- How was he supposed to intimidate her? 

“What’s your deal?” She brushes her hand on her pants. 

“Well, for starters, you’re taking pictures of my license plate.” Peter gestured, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Am I?” She was cool as ever, glancing down at her camera. Peter knew he should’ve smacked the camera out of her hands and onto the pavement. What could she be doing with a picture of his license plate? Was she going to run them, find out who he was -- If she didn’t already? 

“Bye.” She says and she’s gone before he could do anything. Peter curses himself silently as he slams the drivers side door after he gets in the car. 

He goes to meet Ned, his best friend, after visiting Stark. Ned was a regular guy, your regular schmo. He worked in the shop that was the front for the Stark business -- Bless Ned’s heart, he actually believed it was an electronics shop. 

“Thanks for coming, Peter, I was worried.” Ned had been talking about this chick Cindy Moon for a while, but she would only go out with him if it was a double date. Which is why Peter was sitting on the end of a table, staring over at the goddamn girl who took pictures of his license plate. 

“Hey, it’s Mr. Big Deal.” She remarks, pushing her big curls from her face. 

“Oh great.” He rolls his eyes. “Mrs. Big Deal --” He starts to snap, but she cuts in. 

“It’s Miss, actually. I’d never marry you.” She gives a brief smile. Poor Ned and Cindy, they didn’t seem to be having much fun with the current state of the table. 

“You two know each other?” Cindy asks gently.

“Barely.” “We met once.” 

Their waiter comes by, asking what they’d like. It’s a goddamn diner, not a five star - first class restaurant. Peter orders for both himself and Michelle, but she has to correct him on what she wanted right away, giving Peter a dirty look the whole time. Their conversation had quickly dropped, but Ned and Cindy’s had picked up. 

“We should do this again Friday night!” Ned suggested, happy as ever. Peter would rather die in a ditch, or on the side of the road. 

“Sounds good to me. Are you guys in?” Cindy smiled. Peter stared blankly at her. “Sure.” Michelle answered. “Okay.” Peter sighed. 

He didn’t show up. He really, really didn't want to go. Peter was regularly a nice guy, but this girl was annoying. He regretted not showing up the moment she ended up on his block. She was yelling and screaming at him, like some crazy lady. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, boy! Who do you think you are? Standing me up?” She goes on. Of course, he’s out there with all his neighbors standing around to watch. He was helping the old lady next door to him carry in her groceries, but now he was watching Michelle march right up to him. 

“Woah, woah, woah -- I thought that date was for next week.” He lies, hands up in defense. 

“Bullshit. Liar. You’re an asshole, you know that?” Michelle’s eyes are like stabbing daggers. The old lady who lives next door to him looks like she’s going to die of shock, hearing this angry young black woman curse at Peter Parker like that. 

“Michelle --” “No! Fuck you. Fuck you!” She spits, turning on her heel to leave. Peter grabs her arm, pulling her back. She tugs and pulls to get away from him, but she can’t break away, with his hand around her wrist. 

“Let me make it up to you.” He insists. No way he’s letting her go now. He suddenly feels guilty looking at her. She's so gorgeous, screaming at him on his block, where everybody knew him, where everybody respected him, like it was normal. Like this was an everyday thing. 

“No. I know who you are, Parker, and I don’t want any part of it.” She shakes her head, going down the street, finally pulling away from him. Peter just follows her down the block. “Then why’d you track me down?” He asks, brown eyes begging her for an answer. 

“I’m not doing this.” She sighed, quiet. Peter smiled at her. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday at seven, then.” 

He does. At first, she’s cold to him. She’s un-impressed with the nice restaurant, with the nice car he pulled up in. He thinks about it -- Was she really worth it? But then she hears the young performer on stage sing, and she smiles. She actually smiles. Her lips spread and her white teeth peek out and Peter thinks -- Yeah. She’s worth it. 

“Who’s this girl you’ve been seen with?” Stark asks. “What girl?” Peter acts innocent, picking up a pen to fumble with. 

“This -- This _mulatto._ ” Stark says with such a face, Peter almost frowns. “I have no problems with friendship, Peter. But you can’t date her.” Stark tells him. Peter frowns, then he goes to his aunt’s apartment. 

“Aunt May.” He plops a few lumps of sugar into his coffee mug -- The one he made in grade school for his aunt. “There’s this guy I know. He likes this girl, you know, but, uh.” Peter’s literally the worst liar on the whole planet, to his aunt. 

“What is it, Peter?” His aunt puts her cigarette out on the ashtray. 

“She’s, uh. She’s black. But she’s so beautiful. She’s so...gorgeous.” Peter starts to mumble, but May stares at him. 

“Peter, what year is it?” She asks. “1971, May.” He blinks. 

“Okay, so you’re not brain-dead. Honey, who gives a shit? She could be orange or purple -- It doesn’t matter, Pete. If you think she’s beautiful, if you want to be with her, then be with her. Damn anybody who tells you otherwise.” She waves her hand, dismissing it. 

“I think you’re right, May.” He smiles. She stands up, tousling his hair as she walks out of the room.

“Of course I am!” 

Peter shows up at Michelle’s house later that night. It’s not the best neighborhood -- South Jamaica was a scary place, the crime rate was rather high. He’d be scared, if he wasn’t so closely associated with Stark. 

He knocks on the door, taking a step back as it opens. To his surprise, Michelle isn’t there. It’s a smaller, younger version of her. With different hair. 

“Is Michelle home?” He asks, eyebrows raising. “She’s getting ready. Come in.” The younger girl couldn’t be more than 13. She looks so much like Michelle that if you told Peter that this was her from years in the past, he’d probably believe you. 

“Are you her sister?” Peter follows the girl inside the tiny home, past the entryway and the staircase, into the living room. 

“Mary! Who’s there?” An old lady practically screams, shouting over the heavy jazz music playing on her loud radio. There was a small TV playing the Yankee game, but you couldn’t hear it over teh music. 

“Michelle’s boyfriend, Nanna.” Mary answers. “Hello.” Peter gives a wave. “She can’t see you. She’s senile.” Mary tells him with a shrug. “What?” Nanna yells. Peter shifts uncomfortably. 

“Nnanna, why are you playing your music so loud!?” A man’s voice yells, the front door slamming shut. Peter turns to see a darker skinned man -- He notes that the man and Michelle have the same nose. 

“Jamal Thomas, who you talkin’ to like that?” Nanna yells. Jamal stares at Peter. 

“Who’s this?” He juts his chin out. “Peter Parker.” Peter sticks out his hand. 

“Michelle’s boyfriend.” Mary repeats, tugging on one of her long braids. Jamal doesn’t shake Peter’s hand, only shakes his head before he turns to go into the kitchen. 

“You look great.” Peter compliments Michelle as she comes down the damn stairs. Took her long enough. But she really does look great. Her hair is in it’s perfect natural curls. She’s wearing a simple deep purple dress; it’s flowy and v-cut. He’s sure that if her grandmother could see, that she’d send her right up those stairs to change. 

But Peter likes her outfit. She really does look beautiful. She’s even wearing flats, which makes him feel better about his height. It drove him a little crazy that she was so much taller than him. 

Michelle grabs his arm, rushing her goodbye to her family, tugging him out of the house. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. I should’ve just had you wait outside.” Michelle tells him as they walk down the block. 

“It’s okay.” Peter shrugs. “I met your Nanna and Mary.” He tells her. “They seem nice. Loud, too.” He adds. “Nanna’s going deaf and blind. Mary’s just annoying.” Michelle rolls her eyes a little bit. 

“I met Jamal, too. He wouldn’t shake my hand.” He speaks again. Michelle looks straight ahead. Calm as she could be, as cool as ever as she opens her mouth. “He hates white people.” She tucks a curl behind her ear. 

“Oh.” Peter presses his lips together. A hand reaches for Michelle’s hand at her side. She lets him lace their fingers together, though she shifts to the right side of the street slightly, creating a small gap between them. 

They keep walking. 

“Where’s your mother?” He asks her, noting that he hadn’t seen her.  
“Creedmoor.” She answers. _The mental hospital._  
“Your father?” He hopes it’s a better answer.   
“Riker’s Island.” _The prison._

“Shit, Michelle.” He huffs. She’s quiet. 

“Well, it’s the truth.” She says, shrugging. They reach his car. They sit for a few minutes. When he starts to say he’s sorry, she punches him hard in shoulder. 

“This is a date, not a cry-fest, dumbass.” 

He kisses her for the first time that night. The same night, Joseph Romano gets whacked.

Tony calls Peter over. For somebody who isn’t a made man, Peter did way too much. 

Michelle doesn’t hear from him for a week. There’s a war coming, the Dons are all at odds. Stark’s nervous. The fact Peter’s involved with Michelle makes him even more nervous. 

“Mr. Stark -- Tony! She’s harmless! I’m sorry, I don’t care she’s black. I’m not even Italian, I don’t know why you care that much. It doesn’t make a difference to me.” Peter says after Stark stopped him from calling her yet again. God, she was probably so mad at him. 

“She’s harmless? She’s a fucking reporter, Peter. Tell me she’s harmless again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments if you liked this! I'm considering continuing it. You're welcome to leave suggestions for the future if you'd like :)   
> If you have any questions or critics, you're welcome to comment them as well.


End file.
